by K. A Knight
“Just keeping you on your toes,” I tease, slumping into the chair opposite him, leaning forward.
His eyebrow rises as he takes me in. “Struggling with the job?”
“No,” I grit out the lie.
“Female problems?” he asks next, a smile curling up at his lips.
“No,” I snap, another lie.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he remarks with a laugh. “It’s that little black-haired woman who’s friends with Scarlett, isn’t it? Nadia?” he presses, digging for information he already knows.
“What about her?” I narrow my eyes.
“Nothing, I just saw the way you watched her. Seems the Spider has a new control issue. She isn’t the type to bend to your will.”
Looking away, I force my thoughts back to work. “I’m not getting much further on my front. Have you heard anything from anyone else about shipments or missing girls?”
He grins again, but lets me change the subject. The smirk fades as he turns serious. “No, and I have my feelers out, something is off about this job. Be careful.”
Chapter Eleven
Nadia
I went into university today for a few hours, hiding in the photography lab and working on my latest project. I was found, however, and they couldn’t get the hint that I wanted to be alone. Oh no, they kept going on about who died in their life and how hard it was and how much they understood.
I wanted to cunt punch them.
Instead, I left, grabbed dinner at a café, and shot back some coffee before heading home. Once there, I feel the need to do something, anything, rather than just be stuck inside moping, so I change into some clothes I don’t mind ruining—some yoga pants and a sports bra—and tie my hair back before taking the boxes left over from when I moved out to university, and then I head into the kitchen. I’ll start there first. I can’t face her bedroom yet. I’m not throwing away everything, some items will go to charity shops where they will be used instead of sitting around collecting dust, while others will stay where they are, too precious to give or throw away.
A couple of hours later, with four boxes filled, I’m sweaty and my arms hurt, but my mind is settled for the first time in weeks. It feels good to be doing something. I’m just about to start making coffee when a loud knock from the front door reverberates through the house. Swiping back stray strands of escaped hair, I trot to the front door and open it, almost groaning when I see who is on the other side.
Keanu.
“What do you want, asshole?” I spit, blocking the door and crossing my arms.
“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans. “Can I come in?” he asks, before barging past me.
Motherfucker.
Shutting the door, I follow after him as he heads down the corridor and stops in the kitchen, looking at the boxes. “Going somewhere?” he questions without even glancing at me.
“What do you want?” I snap, stepping over to the kettle and beginning to make coffee.
“I’ll have one too, black, one sugar,” he calls, walking around and picking up things before setting them back down.
Grumbling under my breath, I make another one, adding two sugars to his. Petty, but it’s the little things in life. I place his on the table as I hold mine, leaning back against the counter as I watch him.
“As lovely as your presence in my house—uninvited or unwanted—is, what the fuck do you want, Nunu?”
He blinks, looking over at me in confusion, his green eyes wide. “Nu...nu?” he repeats slowly, his voice cold.
“Yes, Nunu, problem? Or would you prefer I just call you asshole?” I grin, blowing on my coffee.
He grabs his, taking a sip and grimacing at the sugar, which makes me feel good. He puts it down without taking another sip. “What the fuck does Nunu mean?”
“Keanuuuuuu, Nunu.” I shrug.
He blinks at me again, his lips turning down. Jesus, he’s a prick. Scarlett told me he was fun, and I overheard him with her...he was teasing and happy. Does he like her? Is this why he’s like this with me?
“I see,” is all he says, and he goes back to his scrutiny of my kitchen, the differences glaringly obvious. He stands out like a sore thumb in his long wool coat with a charcoal suit underneath, his white shirt buttoned all the way to the top. If he was fun, he sure as shit isn’t now. Unless this is the real him?
“I was wondering…” I start, and he looks at me, raising an eyebrow for me to continue. “Have you always had this stick up your arse, or did you put it specifically there for me?”
“Love, if I was going to put anything up my arse for you, it wouldn’t be a stick.” He winks and when I blink, his face is back to being cold again. “You need to stop going to that club.”
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded, this is not the turn of conversation I thought we would take...and how did he know I was there?
“I’m investigating a case and it has led me there a few times, it’s not safe. Stay away.” He turns and starts to leave. I rush forward, purposely stumbling and spilling my coffee on his white shirt, because this guy is way too perfect looking all the time.
He groans, his eyes narrowing on me as I grin. “Whoops, now you better tell me what the fuck you are going on about.”
I block the doorway again, and he looks down at his wet shirt with a scowl, then finally meets my gaze. “I can’t tell you much else, but you need to stay away.”
“Nope, try again,” I retort.
“Nadia,” he warns, glaring at me.
“It isn’t safe,” he snarls, moving closer until he’s pressed against me and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
“Yeah, I’m not buying it. You already said you don’t give a shit about me, so either you were lying then and telling the truth now, or lying now and telling the truth then.” He blinks at me and my grin grows. “Want to know what I think, Spider?” I mock the nickname and his lips tug down.
“I think you followed me the other night, saw I went into the office, and didn’t like it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you really do hate me, probably because you want me and that irritates you...so this warning is fuelled by jealousy.”
“You think way too much of yourself, love,” he murmurs, leaning closer so our lips nearly touch. My heart starts to race, and I lick my lips nervously, his minty breath hitting me. “I don’t care who you fuck. I’m warning you in respect to Max and Scarlett.” He steps back then, smirking at my flustered expression.
“Sure thing, Nunu,” I tease, just as his phone rings.
He yanks it from his pocket, the only sign of his irritation, and answers it while still staring at me.
“Hey, Baywatch, say hi to Scarlett for me. I was wondering, are you aware of how out of your league she is?” He grins, and it’s strange, like watching a foreign film with English subtitles...he’s different, but I can tell it’s just another one of his acts, a way for him to fit in and relate, so which is the true him? He prattles on for a minute before hanging up.
“Now, I need to get back to work to save girls who give a shit about their lives. Stay the hell away from that club, this is your last warning. If not, what happens to you is your own fault,” he orders, pointing his finger at me before squeezing past. This time I let him go, and the front door slams behind him, making me jump.
“Asshole,” I mutter to the quiet house, as I hear his car start up before he races down the road.
The club is busy tonight. I had planned on going anyway, but Keanu’s threats only made me want to do it more. I don’t grab a drink today, instead I circle through the crowd, intent on one thing—I want to see if Keanu is really following me. He didn’t deny it, so if he is, me being here will piss him off.
The staircase to the office is empty, so I head up the steps and open the door, finding the office just as vacant. Deciding to wait for him, I shut the door behind me and pour myself a drink, wandering around to pass the time.
Something slams into the door, and I jump and turn to look. I hear vo
ices on the other side, angry sounding ones, and for some reason the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as Keanu’s warning floats in my mind. I search for a place to hide and almost groan at the only option when the thud comes again, sending me scurrying over to the desk. I push back the chair and squeeze in, pulling the chair back in front of me so I don’t give my position away just as I hear the door opening.
Two sets of footsteps sound before something crashes on top of the desk. I yank my phone from my pocket, ready to dial the last number, Keanu’s, when suddenly a definitive feminine giggle comes.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he mutters.
Shit, I really don’t want to listen to him hooking up, but unless I jump out from under the desk like a weirdo, I have no choice...that’s when it becomes strange.
“Stop, something, something’s wrong,” the girl slurs, her voice slow like she can’t quite speak.
“Too much to drink?” he jokes, but his voice sounds funny also…monotone, like he’s said this before.
“No, no, what was in that drink?” she queries, gasping, and I hear feet hit the floor before something else does and he sighs.
“Thought I would at least get my fun this time,” he grumbles, and my eyes widen as I cover my mouth to stifle my breathing and the gasp that wants to escape. “Too bad, you really are sexy, oh well. Chris, come get her. Take her out back. The van will be waiting, make sure they wire me the money properly this time.”
The door opens and I hear dragging, the club music pouring through before it’s cut off with the door closing again. I freeze. Shit, is he coming to sit down? What the fuck just happened?
But I know what happened.
She was kidnapped.
Drugged.
Taken.
Worst of all, Keanu was right.
He mutters to himself and I hear a bottle popped and a drink pouring before he sighs. The door opens again. “Boss, problem at the bar.”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, then I hear his footsteps retreating before the door shuts again. It goes silent, but I daren’t move or even breathe too heavily, scared he will come back or that he’s tricking me, but when nothing happens and time ticks by, I push back the chair and peek over the top of the desk. It’s empty. I jump to my feet, dashing to the door when something shiny catches my eye.
A bag, a woman’s bag on the desk, forgotten.
Shit. I snatch it and open the office door, looking down the stairs. I can’t see him or security, so I close the door lightly and rush to the bottom before jumping into the crowd to blend in. I get caught in their masses and I see the entrance door up front.
I hesitate though. Fuck, Nadia, don’t do it...except I can’t help but turn to the back where the toilets are and...the fire door to the alley at the back.
I hurry through, slipping out into the night, and instantly duck behind the dustbin there, shivering from the cold. A van, black panelled with tinted windows, is idling just down the alley. I peer around the bin and watch as the woman is tossed into the back, her head hitting the floor and making me wince as they laugh and slam the doors on her. It’s Christian and another man—a man with a handlebar moustache, wide torso, skinny legs, and a mean looking shaved head. Grabbing my phone, I take some pictures before switching to video, the mobile shaking in my hands as I watch the man hand something to Christian in an envelope who nods in response. I see their mouths moving, but I can’t hear them speaking from here. It only goes on for a couple of minutes, but I make sure to catch the plate number as they break up. The man heading round the side of the van...and Christian heading straight towards me.
Shit.
Ending the recording, I put my phone away and hunt for somewhere to hide where he won’t see me. The dim light near the back door is illuminating my current spot and he would notice me instantly.
Fuck, Nads, think.
My eyes flit frantically around as I hear the telltale crunching of his boots drawing closer. Groaning, I spot my only option. There is a tiny hole behind the dustbin. Holding my nose, I shimmy my way in, hissing slightly when my leg gets caught on something and I feel the flesh slice open. I wiggle back as far as I can until I’m no longer in the light and hunch down, covering my mouth as he comes into view at the back door. He looks around for a minute frowning, before opening it and slipping back inside, the bang of it shutting making me jump.
I wait just in case he comes back before releasing my breath. I wrinkle my nose at the rotting smell of the bin and crawl out the other end. Once I’m free, I take off down the alley, panic chasing me as I try to get away. Shit, shit, shit, if they find out I was here...that I saw and have evidence…I can’t even imagine what they will do to me.
I could go to the cops.
No.
The cops were here the other day. He’s getting away with it somehow. When I reach the street, I slow down, ducking my head as I cross the road and make some twists and turns until I find a taxi rank.
Only when I’m in the back, sitting on the leather seat, do I fully relax.
I know what I have to do, and I fucking hate it.
Chapter Twelve
Keanu
I open the front door, leaning against it to block her entrance, and take in her outfit and dishevelled state, cringing at the smell. “You stink,” I point out helpfully, and she narrows her eyes.
“No shit, now let me in,” she snaps.
I had made her sweat it out outside for a while when she hammered on the gate, but when the taxi left her there, I opened them up and let her in, nevertheless she isn’t getting any further. Running my eyes down her body, I frown at the cut on her leg. “What the fuck happened to you?” I growl, standing tall now, anger and fear racing through me. This woman hates me, I know it, so if she’s here…
Something’s wrong.
“Please, please, I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes as she shivers from the cold...she’s afraid. Of what?
I step back and let her in. She slips past me, heading straight to the kitchen with me close on her heels, then she slumps onto the stool she was in the other day as I crowd closer, ignoring the stench, and force her eyes to mine.
“Nadia, what happened?” I demand. Whatever has made this hellcat afraid isn’t good. She doesn’t even fear me, for fuck’s sake, meeting my anger and frosty attitude head-on. Whatever happened has to be bad. I take in her dress and it clicks. “You went back there, didn’t you?”
She swallows, peering up at me, her eyes so round and deep I almost get lost in them. “Didn’t you?” I repeat, harsher this time, and she flinches. I force myself to step back and blow out a breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt apart from the cut on your leg?” She shakes her head, so my decision is made.
I grab the med kit I keep in here and flick on the kettle to make some coffee before crouching in front of her. I grasp her silky soft calf and place her foot on my knee, uncaring of the heel of her shoe catching on the expensive material as I take out the cleaning agents and dressings.
“I need you to tell me what happened, okay? I’ll clean this for you, since we don’t want it getting infected, but you have until I finish to tell me or I’ll march down there and find out for myself,” I threaten, and begin on her leg. When I’m done, my hand still wrapped around her thigh, I look up and meet her gaze, only then does she speak.
“I saw it, I saw a girl get kidnapped.”
I pour the coffee and pass it to her gently. Leaving her on the stool, I keep her cold and uncomfortable and more likely to talk...a habit, and when I realise it, I feel a flicker of anger at myself, but I push it away. I need her to talk and quickly if what she said was true, and I need to know everything she saw. It could mean the difference between stopping these people and letting them slip by again. It infuriates me knowing she disobeyed my orders though, and went back there, but I can deal with that later. All that matters now is what she knows.
I never thought I would have to rely on this wild
woman to help me solve my case...who fucking knew.
“Nadia,” I demand, my tone harsh, but it does the trick. Her head lifts and her eyes meet mine, and she sits straight in her chair, acknowledging my dominance without meaning to. “Tell me everything.”
She nods, licking her pink lips, making my eyes catch on them...imagining what they taste like, what they would feel like wrapped around my cock as I fucked her mouth. Shit, concentrate. She’s already started talking, so I zone back in and listen to her, my hands curled into fists as the story goes on until I can’t sit still anymore. I get to my feet and start pacing to burn off some of this energy before I take it out on her, probably spanking her ass for putting herself in danger.
“I took a video and some pictures, and oh, I have her bag.” She sits up straighter now, life returning to her with each word until her eyes once again sparkle with vivacity, spitting fire at me.
“Show me,” I command, turning to her. She pulls her phone from her cleavage and passes it to me, still warm from touching her body—lucky bastard. She gives me the bag next, and I look at her before surveying the items in my hands.
“Stay here,” I order, as I head upstairs and to my office. My computers are already prepared, so I plug in her phone and grab the images and video as I search the bag.
“Her ID is in there, I found it when I was looking earlier. Alena Shaw, twenty-five years old, five foot six. Black hair, golden eyes. She fought, she knew something was wrong.” I don’t spin to see her, but my back almost hunches from her being in here, my safe spot. “She was so scared, Keanu, so fucking scared and I couldn’t do anything,” she whispers, and I look up to see her step into the room, her arms wrapped around her as she stares at the screen where the pictures and video are thumbnailed.
“We’ll try to find her,” I tell her, turning back to the screen, and sending the pictures into my database and searching for a match.
